


Darker than the Swoon of Sin

by CReed



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dark Alistair is Dark, Dirty Talk, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Infidelity, Oral Sex, Stamina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CReed/pseuds/CReed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't choose her. That ended the moment she killed Loghain, saving him his future bride's wrath. Now, their relationship is everything it was only without the trust lovers have, without the intimacy, no matter what he might pine for. Years have passed and, having played the game so long, Alistair decides to take something for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darker than the Swoon of Sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/gifts).



> **Original prompt:** http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/8033.html?thread=35696993
> 
> **Final note:** As always, please enjoy, dear readers.

Even with the door closing, not slamming, the echoes followed him. Thankfully it was only servants, though they would most likely be “reporting” back to their mistress. If he wasn't so bleeding tired he would at least smile at the thought. However, all he had in him was exasperation and a dull weariness that weighed him down. He could only lean against the heavy door with a sigh, head falling against it with a thud. The day had not been the best he ever experienced.

Seven years of this and Anora still thought she could control him.

From the beginning they both realized he was nothing like Cailan. He would not be led around, wrapped around her finger, while she called the shots. Maker's breath, he never actually liked the woman so that avenue had been closed to her from the beginning. And unlike his half-brother one could not just throw something shiny before him, like a sword or armor set, and he would forget about the papers needing signing, coffers that had to be filled one way or another. The elves deserved more than squalor. The Circle, while necessary, could show their mages more leniency, Orlais was hovering again, only this time like a scavenger instead of a tiger, and he did not even want to think about the rumblings he heard from Kirkwall. The destruction of Amaranthine was still fresh in everyone's minds. They all looked to him, which was fine, it was Anora's insistence that she be present during meetings and have a say (yeah, like that would happen, ever) that was tiring.

His queen's nagging always grew worse when their special guest was visiting. Sadly, her suspicions were unfounded, had been since their engagement was first announced all those years ago.

At that thought his fists unclenched from against the door and he breathed in, exhaling as he calmed his growing aggravation. His hand slid down to the lock, clicking it in place, before turning around and looking at the lavish suite. The parlor doors were open and flickering shadows from the firelight could be seen from his stance. It was quiet but he knew she was in, having retired after the party of Denerim elite wanting to rub elbows with the Hero of Ferelden.

When he stepped through the entry Morticai was the only one who greeted him, head lifting from giant paws and giving a friendly chuff of bark. The old boy must have just returned from a visit to the kennels, picking out yet another fine bitch to breed with, as his tail gave a frisky wave before he settled down. His beloved mistress reached out to lay a hand on his head without looking up from the book she read, curled up on the chaise lounge near the fire. Alistair smiled, not just at the domestic picture his two favorite people (well, person plus dog) made but also the large cart filled with trays and covered platters that stood untouched nearby. More plates and platters set upon the small table, those undisturbed as well.

With a dramatic sigh he fell onto the velvet couch next to her seat, throwing his arms above his head to dangle off the stuffed armrest while his boot-clad feet remained on the rug. He could feel the exhaustion settling deeper, the warmth of the fire sapping what was left of his energy. Another sigh escaped him and he heard a laugh that made him smile. Pages rustled and he turned his head to watch Sereda place a piece of ribbon in her book before setting it aside. Morticai bumped his head against her as she walked by but other than that mimicked perfectly Alistair's laziness as they watched her move.

“No, don't get up.” Who she spoke to he wasn't sure, but at the teasing grin she sported he only wriggled deeper into the corner of the couch.

He still could not quite get over the Hero of Ferelden in a dress. Her grace and beauty always made him pause and he picked up on that even in the days of Ostagar, but it was hard to remember his one-time traveling companion was not only noble but a princess of Orzammar when she trudged through darkspawn filth, covered in blood and slitting throats. Now she all but glided across the room, silk skirt making a pleasant swishing sound.

He watched. Every now and again her skirt would sway or lift to reveal dainty feet in slippers – this time some strappy, beaded number that would have made Leliana proud. His eyes drifted up, stopping on that arse Wynne had caught him ogling so many times. Sereda had to know what she did to him and sometimes he wondered if that roll to her hips was just for his viewing pleasure. However, his favorite part, even considering the deep sapphire of her eyes, those pouty red lips or smoky voice, was the swell above her generous bottom that lead into the dip of her back. It made his heart speed up and flesh hot. Even after all these years he remembered the feel of that soft skin beneath his fingers, the taste of it as he trailed his tongue along the salty expanse.

“A funny thing.” Her voice broke him of his thoughts, eyes once more at a polite level. She was still turned away, puttering about at the large cart. “I sent for dinner, something to enjoy in the peace of my rooms, when the servants came bearing enough food for a small banquet. Now, either I am much more of a pig than I thought, or someone planned on hiding in here with me and told them to supply extras.” She turned around, goblet in each hand, and made her way back to his seat.

He smiled, shrugging as he took one of the full drinks. “Odd... Well, it's a good thing I happened by. I'll just have to stay and help clear this bounty.”

Sereda sat in the empty spot at the end of the couch, settling her goblet safely on the polished side table before lifting his legs so his calves rested against her thighs. His boots were pulled off, landing with a thud on the floor. For a time they sat in silence, sipping wine and watching the fire. Her hand lay on his shin, now and then patting absently. Finally, when there were only drops left of his drink he stood from the warmth of their positions and took her hand, leading her to the table. She giggled, shaking her head as he made a grand show of pulling out her chair.

“My Lady.” He bowed and gestured to the ornate chair.

Her curtsy was deep, mimicking the style of the human nobles and Alistair bit his lip to keep from groaning as that wonderful cleavage threatened to spill from its satiny confines. “Your Majesty is so kind.”

They both snickered as they finally sat, unrolling napkins and readying silverware. It amused Teagan, somewhat worried Eamon and outright appalled Anora when they “made light” of their social statuses. Both Wardens tried to explain time and again that when one lived so long sleeping on the hard ground, eating camp food and not practicing proper hygiene as often as one should it was a bit late in the game to try and teach one courtly manners. At least Sereda had experience and could put what she liked to call her “princess face” on when need be, but he was a country village boy who at one time lived in a stable – and that was long before the Blight!

While they ate he discreetly watched. Same figure, same beauty but with the sharpened angles of maturity. Even her hands were the same, a new scar here and there, but still the same hands he had once held either to comfort or pull her from danger. The last bit of his reservations crumbled away and he set his plan into motion.

“So how are things, my dear?”

Sereda looked up, eyes widened in surprise and jaw paused mid-chew. He kept from smiling, maintaining the unassuming look of nonchalance he had perfected over the years. Of course she would notice the long-abandoned endearment, he had counted on it. It was only a moment and then her emotions were safely hidden, throat working to swallow the morsel.

After a sip of wine she frowned, staring into the swirling liquid. “Things are almost civil now between the nobles of Amaranthine and I.”

“I don't blame you for your decision, you know? No one in Denerim does either. They understand better than anyone what happens when darkspawn gain even a small foothold on the surface.”

“I know. Dwarf, remember?” She smiled but it faded and she sighed, pushing her plate away. “Then again, I think that is where the real problem lies. Not only am I an outsider to them but also not human. If some of them wanted me dead when I first arrived, then I am sure they would risk much to kill me now.”

Alistair stood to retrieve another bottle of wine. Instead of placing it on the table he came to her side, leaning close to refresh her drink. “There will always be ignorant fools out there. No matter what happens, you did nothing that anyone else would have done differently in your position.” His face grew stern and voice deepened causing her to squirm in her seat. “And if they ever harm you, the one who protects them even at the cost of her own life, I will sink their precious “jewel of the nation” into the sea.” Just as quick he stood straight, smile on his face. “At any rate, I hear you've dipped into your personal Orzammar vaults to pay for the rebuilding costs.”

Sereda smiled though it was shaky and she drained half of her goblet before answering, much to his delight. “Well, I burned their city. Might as well help fix what I broke.” She snorted, throwing back the rest of the wine and lifting her cup for a refill. “It would have fallen eventually. Shoddy, human craftsmanship,” she winced and looked bashfully at him, “no offense.”

He laughed, “None taken, my dear. Remember, I've seen the work of the dwarves. We have a lot to learn from our Stone allies.”

Instead of giving her more wine he grabbed her hand and urged her to stand. She watched, confused, as he went about grabbing some of the overstuffed pillows from the couch to arrange on the floor before the hearth. He set the bottle and their glasses amongst the cushions before guiding her to sit. Her curiosity grew as he tinkered about with the platters on the cart. Finally, it seemed he found what he was looking for and he returned to her, easing down onto his knees with a large, chilled covered bowl and a smaller dish.

He smiled at her gasp as he lifted the silver lid, revealing large lusciously plump strawberries. “The gardens have been exceptional this year. I thought you might like to try some before I gobble them all up.”

Before she could reach for one he beat her to it, dipping a berry into the dish to give the tip a generous coating of fresh cream. He scooted closer, far too close to be considered appropriate, and held it level to her mouth. One elegant eyebrow rose, questions filling her eyes, but it was only a moment before she accepted the silent challenge. Again, it took much of his control to not give his excitement away when she leaned the rest of the distance and wrapped her wine-stained lips around the fruit. A slight, sucking pull, and then there was only a stem in his grasp.

They continued their light conversations between bites. He didn't offer another berry from his hand. The one time she returned the favor he soon regretted it, as she felt it was the perfect opportunity to dab some of the sweet cream onto his nose. Another bottle was opened, their words becoming louder and interrupted with laughter more and more. As nice as this was he was growing impatient. Night had to be upon them now. The thought of losing any more time made him feel desperate and helpless.

Sereda bit into another berry, too much into the fleshy middle, and a mix of juice and cream began to run down the corner of her mouth. The drop didn't make it far when he grabbed her gently by the chin and licked the sweetness away. Distantly he realized she had frozen in place, the other half of the berry rolling to the floor as her hand brushed his sleeve, but he didn't stop. She wasn't pushing him away so he licked across her bottom lip before kissing her. Just as he was about to slide his tongue into her warm mouth she turned from him.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was small, hushed.

Her hair brushed his lips and he took a subtle sniff, eyes closing as emotions he hadn't felt in a long time threatened to overwhelm him. Beneath the hints of ebony and vanilla was _her_ and he slipped an arm around her waist, keeping her close if she decided to bolt. He couldn't help nuzzling against her ear, lips smoothing the gems dangling from her pale lobe.

“What do you think I'm doing?” He let his voice drop to a low rumble.

Sereda shivered, a slight whimper rising out of her, but she leaned into him. “I don't understand. What's brought this on?”

He moved about so his legs straightened before him and he pulled her onto his lap, breath coming out heavier as she gasped but let her back fall against his chest. “I've tried to do the right thing. I thought I could let you go. But it's been long enough hasn't it?”

He kissed her neck, sucking at the skin until she cried out and began to squirm. The movement pressed her against his crotch and he didn't stop his hips from thrusting against her bottom, earning another appreciative moan from her. Fingers with skills developed over the years made quick work of the laces at her back until the once confining material was loose about her shoulders. All he would have to do is pull. However, he changed course and instead began to gather her skirt until her creamy legs met his hungry gaze. He inched the fabric up until those strong thighs were revealed. How he remembered the feel of them gripping him as he took her in their stuffy tent or beneath the stars. The thought hardened him and he pressed further against her.

“The reasons keeping me from you are ridiculous. I can't do it anymore. Please, _Red_.”

At the utterance of his old, private pet name Sereda was suddenly up and standing away from him, bare back trembling as she tried to regain control of her emotions. “That's not fair, Alistair.”

Despite her leaving his hold hope sprang sharp and hot in his chest. She didn't sound sad or angry, mainly petulant and he could just imagine the pout she had to be sporting. He rose once more to his knees and approached, sliding a hand from the top of her spine to the dimple of her tailbone. His experience on the throne kept his next words from sticking in his throat and more a husky purr.

“Do you consent?”

She turned, the gold strands in her ruby-red hair shining further as they caught the firelight, and Alistair couldn't breathe for a moment. They both had waited so long.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

Her shoulders gave the slightest twitch and her bodice fell lower. With slow, teasing movements she pulled it down to her waist, long curls of her thick hair only revealing the side swells of her generous breasts. Pushed along curvy hips, the dress finally pooled at her ankles. The rogue stepped gingerly out of the tangle then knelt before him. He helped pull his gaudy, awful shirt off his servants insisted him wear and he was tempted to throw it in the fire. When her fingers had taken care of the laces of his breeches he ran out of patience and pulled her down onto the cushions. Now, with her hair fanned out beneath her, he could clearly see her fine figure. She giggled, coy and playful and everything he missed, as he struggled with her smalls until finally they were off and thrown across the room to be forgotten. She noticed he left her shoes on and smiled, running her ribbon-crossed ankle against his side.

He leaned down to kiss her, enjoying the feel of her beneath him, against him, around him as he settled between her legs. They kissed and nipped, grinding into each other and he groaned as her hands found their way into his last article of clothing, cupping his buttocks and pulling his pants down. He helped with the last few inches, stopping his exploration of her breasts long enough to kick his legs free. Moving lower, he kissed and sucked at her navel smiling as she giggled and tried to squirm away. Before she could escape he suddenly surged lower, grabbing her hips and sinking his tongue into the core of her.

Her moans and cries grew louder, uncaring if anyone heard. Neither did he. If he was going to be accused of infidelity he may as well commit to it. He let his fingers join in, plunging deep inside as he licked the sensitive bundle of nerves. He glanced up, groaning as he saw she was thumbing and pinching her nipples, eyes closed and mouth open as she panted in pleasure. Her muscles started quivering and right before she could fall completely he stopped, pulling back to sit on his knees.

Sereda cried out, whimpering as her hips continued to buck. Finally her eyes cracked open, clouded and dark blue. “Why'd you stop?”

He licked his lips, smirking at the look she gave him. “Finish it.”

“Wha—” Her voice was husky like a desire demon, just like he remembered when she got completely undone by their bed play. It made him shiver and ache to fill her, but that would be for later.

“Finish yourself. I want to watch you fall and know you're thinking of me while you do it.”

“Alistair,” she moaned but her hand was already sliding down her body.

She didn't bother with teasing. Her fingers sank into the slick folds, finding at once the pearl hidden within. Fast, firm strokes while her free hand kneaded her breast. Alistair watched, whispering sweet and vile words to her as he pulled at his erection, pumping just as furiously as she moved her hand.

“Oh, darling, you're perfect. You're dripping all that honey for me, aren't you? Do you ache for me, Red? I can't wait to have you once more, riding my cock until you pass out. I almost wish Anora would walk in right now. I want her to see what kind of woman it takes to satisfy me so thoroughly.” His pace picked up even faster as he noticed Sereda's long lashes fluttering. She was close. “Maybe I should fuck you on my throne. You think that would send them all a clear message, love?”

Sereda cried out, his name long and loud as she shuddered to completion. As he strove for his own orgasm she surged up, surprising a squawk out of him as she barreled into him, knocking him onto his back. Anything he might have said changed into a deep, drawn out cry as she swallowed his erection. What she couldn't fit she massaged with her hands, slick with her own release. A few bobs of her head and he was shooting into her throat. 

They lay panting in a tangle of clothes and cushions, drenched in sweat. When his heart finally calmed and he had strength once more in his limbs, he lifted Sereda's face gently from his shoulder, running his thumb across her swollen lips.

“Perhaps we shouldn't have waited so long to do that.”

“Are you kidding? That was incredible.” Sereda sat up, back arching as she stretched and yawned. Alistair felt himself stirring at the sight. However a frown darkened her flushed features and sadness filled her eyes. “Unless, you intend to wait another seven years before the next time?” Her emotions were shuttering away, much like shortly before that first Landsmeet.

“What? Maker, no!” He sat up, holding her close as she straddled his lap. “I meant what I said, Sereda. I can't find the excuses to stay away from you any longer.”

She tilted her head, frowning but not pulling away. “What of your wife? Do you not still feel it unfair to your queen if you have me on the side?”

Alistair winced, remembering some of the reasons he had babbled long ago to end their relationship. “I was wrong. Flames, you know how I naïve I was back then, still trying to make everyone happy.”

“And now?”

He scowled, running fingertips gently down her arm until finding her fingers to lace with his. “We read those letters of Cailan's, remember? Eamon knew she was barren and still pushed you to support our marriage. I don't think they really cared at the time for an heir, not enough to completely depose Anora. That was my only reason for letting you go and I've regretted it ever since. I think I've done good things, fair things for Ferelden. Why can't I have at least one thing that makes me happy?” He froze, letting go of her hand. “Unless you have moved on...”

Sereda scoffed, leaning forward to press a succession of hard kisses along his shoulder before resting her forehead against him. “If it were that easy. I tried, you know? Sodding Ancestors, I tried to forget you, move on. And no matter the crises, no matter the jobs and no matter who warmed my bed it didn't make a fucking difference.” Her arms slipped around his sides, fingers clutching at his back as her legs gripped his waist. 

Alistair groaned, running his lips along her neck. Standing, her body was snug against him and he made his way further into the suite. By the time they made it to the bedchamber he was fully hard once more, the tip of his cock grazing her and he couldn't resist lowering her onto his head. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she sought his mouth, crying into him as his gait teased them both. Finally he reached the bed, lowering her onto the plush spread. He ached to be inside her again but couldn't stop the urge to just enjoy her in his arms, kissing that sweet mouth once more.

“Love,” he panted against her mouth before pulling far enough away to look into her eyes, “there will never be another.”

Tears gathered in her eyes but none fell. She only shook her head and his heart cracked. “No. There will come a time when you fully step into your legacy. You will live, and you will forget. Someone will win your heart. And one day you will put aside these feelings, Alistair.”

“No.” His voice was harsh and she whimpered, closing her eyes and turning away from him. “No matter the women they throw at me, no matter the things asked of me _in the name of the future of Ferelden or my throne_ , it's you, Red.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look once more into his eyes. “It will always be you.”

Sereda's head flung back into the pillows as he thrust into her. At first neither of them could do more than pant. As his pace quickened their voices rose until he imagined the lusty cries and exclamations could be heard outside her suite. The thought made him smile and he thrust harder, earning a curse from his beloved princess. He leaned back onto his knees, grabbing her legs to wind around his waist. His hips snapped in a hard pace, pushing her along the mattress. Laughter, hysterical and debauched, bubbled out of him as Sereda's hand slid down her body until she found the delicious bundle of nerves hiding between her legs.

“That's it, love.” Once again he felt his gut coil and he gripped her hips to slam harder into her. “Help me take you there.”

“Alistair.” Her voice was deep and rough, making every syllable a caress on that sinful tongue.

“Tell me what you want. Say the word,” he purred and delighted in the shivers that began wracking her curvaceous form.

The look she gave him nearly winded him. No longer the hesitant woman she became after The Mother, but the warrior princess who had completely demolished his inhibitions a lifetime ago. Her free hand slid down the swell of her breast and down along her flushed skin until resting on her abdomen.

“Finish inside me.” She bit her lip as she moved her fingers faster, hips bucking as she started to fall. “Let me feel your warmth again.”

Perhaps it was because she was a seasoned fighter, or maybe it was her Grey Warden abilities, but any other woman would have screamed at the pace he set – and not from pleasure. He grit his teeth as his hips jerked back and forth, the rhythmic tightening around his cock dragging excruciating pleasure out of him. Almost there.

He heard Morticai give a huff of warning near the entrance of the suite, voices and a distinct clicking noise in the same moment Sereda sat up, knocking him onto his back. They nearly tumbled off the foot of the bed but that didn't stop him from grabbing her hips and continuing to thrust. The change in position made her fall deeper, swallowing him that much more and they both screamed their delight. Finally Sereda threw her head back, nails sliding down his chest in a pleasant burn and he could feel pulse after pulse of her completion as if it were his own. She collapsed on top of him, moving with his last thrusts as he poured into her.

Her hands ran through his hair, pulling him, as he still panted and tried to regain some sense of composure, into a kiss. Their tongues slid together as aftershocks trembled through them. Neither could move much, least of all away from the other. Finally after a bit more kissing and petting Sereda left the bed. Alistair rolled onto his stomach, a clear view of her in the next room as she poked around the remains of their dinner. As she returned, bottle of spirits in one hand and a heaping plate of food in the other all while deliciously naked, he smirked and leaned up on his elbows.

“I think Anora got a glimpse more of you than she ever might have wanted.” He moved to sit against the headboard, arms and legs opening as she climbed back into bed and settled her back against his chest.

Sereda gave an unimpressed grunt, chewing a piece of mutton. “Serves her right. There was a lock _and_ a Mabari keeping her out. You'd think she would take the hint.”

Alistair smiled, stealing a bite before resting his head on her shoulder. As she shared her food and drink the blissful afterglow began to subside. Guilt and worry began to gnaw at him and he slipped his arms around her waist.

“Is this okay?” All of his earlier confidence and heat was gone, leaving only the sweet hesitance of how he used to be around her.

Sereda was silent for a moment, putting her plate and bottle safely on the night stand. When she tried to turn annoyance came into her eyes and she sighed, making quick work of pulling free of her shoes that were now loose and knotted. He smiled as she finally turned on his lap, laying capable little hands against his shoulders. There was so much vulnerability in her eyes but she didn't seem apprehensive. In fact, there was a solid determination in her gaze and his smile grew.

“I love you, Alistair. It was never my wish to part from you. Our situation will always be complicated. You have your duties as I have mine – not only as Warden-Commander, but as Princess and Paragon. There is no guarantee I will not be called upon to perform my own duties in the name of the throne. However, with the short time that we have left...”

Alistair cupped her cheek, delighting in the way she leaned into his touch. “Why not make the most of it?”

“Exactly.”

“Then, my Lady,” his voice reached that perfect, rumbling tone that never failed to weaken her resolve. “Will you do me the honor of accepting my offer of officially becoming my lover?”

“I do. Any way I can have you, I will. It hurts too much otherwise.”

Hours later, spent and thoroughly quenched, Alistair lay awake. He cradled the slumbering princess against him, careful not to wake her as ran his fingers through soft hair. All of the planning and effort paid off. He had his mistress. Finally. Now, all he had to do was make her consort.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author's note:** Yeah... I have no idea. I really hope OP and anyone who actually reads this enjoys it. I think it got away from me. Sorry in advance if it's not good. Just so you know, when Alistair calls her “Red” it isn't because she's a redhead. It's because of SeREDa. Get it? Oy vey, never mind me. :) I'm lame. Also, hmmm... It seems Alistair is a tad dark in the last paragraph. Or that might just be me, but I kind of like the sound of it. Read into that whatever you wish. One more thing: the title is from a little snippet of James Joyce, “Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid pleasure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.” That's just a fun fact.


End file.
